“’Tis not my place to organize the kitchen staff,” I said.
“Not yourplace?” he growled. “Then whose place is it? You’ll be lady of this keep soon. ’Tis time for you to learn how to lead.”
“But—”
My husband was not in the mood for my feeble protests. “I’ll be back this evening,” he interrupted. “I’m taking some of the men for a hunt. Tell the butcher to expect us by sundown.” And with that he strode from my chambers, slamming the door loudly behind him.
Once I would have cursed him for his rudeness, and thought him a boorish brute and all manner of other insults. Now, I forgave him. Almost. He didn’t need to rant nor fume at me to get me to obey him. I allowed that he wasn’t used to so many frustrations; his life, aside from the challenges of war—which were expected and embraced when one’s lifelong purpose was as a noble, educated soldier—had been free from the kind of challenges Glenlochie presented. His family had run Kinloch flawlessly for generations. He had been born into that privilege. This change would take some time to adjust to.
And his observations about the appalling state of our keep were, after all, correct. I could, I supposed, try to help, as he requested. My father would learn of my new occupation; that he would react unfavorably to the newswent without question. But my husband would defend me. The new landscape of my life was difficult to grasp. I would need courage, husband or no husband—such was the thoroughness of my conditioning. We both had much to adjust to.
Not more than a minute after he had stormed from our chambers, the door opened and Kade strode in.
“Oh, what luck,” I commented, almost under my breath. “My kindly, chivalrous husband has returned to me sooner than promised.”
Kade smiled in response to my sarcasm. He walked back over to where I stood. His hand lifted to cradle the side of my face with his palm. His thumb traced lightly along my cheekbone. “So it seems I have been the brutish husband you were expecting all along, and in no small measure. I was on guard against attack on our journey. And I had thought to be welcomed into a somewhat organized, accepting clan. I have found the opposite to be true. I am on edge for a thousand reasons. But I didn’t mean to take it out on you. I want to do the right thing, and most of all, to keep you safe. Forgive me.”
Aye, I knew that Kade’s nature was unpredictable. I had expected my husband, since I knew no other way of it, to act as all other men: rough and overbearing. That he felt the need to appease me after his frustrated outburst was no less than miraculous to me. No man had ever shown me such regard, nor such care. My husband’s apology seemed to seep into some unknowable fissure in my heart and widen it by several degrees. Ifound myself wrapping my arms around his neck and kissing him.
He laughed lightly, drawing in a sharp breath as though deeply affected by my reaction. He pulled back, holding my face between his hands. “Easy, feisty wee wife,” he said. Then, after a pause, as though to ensure that his own fervor was under control, he touched his lips to mine in a hot, reassuring supplication. The contact fed my fledgling addiction with ardent force. My lips parted in a sighing plea. But then, abruptly, Kade withdrew. He was almost panting, visibly struggling for self-control. It was a moment before he spoke.
“If I’d known that was all it took to getthisreaction,” he said, “I’d have followed my wedding vows with a litany of apologies.”
“Stay with me,” I said, suddenly fervent for more of my husband.
“Believe me when I say I would like nothing more than to spend the day sequestered alone in these chambers with you, making amends for my churlish behavior. I will count the minutes ’til I can next do this, and much more.” He kissed me again, just a light brush of his lips against mine. Reluctantly, he disengaged, dazzling me in that moment with his glowing appeal. “But I cannot stay. I’ve ordered some of the men to assemble in the stables. We ride at daybreak.”
After one more particularly sweet, soft kiss, Kade left me, and I found myself surprisingly bereaved by his departure. Something had changed. A bond had formed where I’d least expected it: between myself andmy fierce warrior husband. We had need of each other. We had already begun to rely on each other’s support amid our shared difficulties. And there was more to it than that. A tenderness had crept into our exchanges: a new, intricate sensibility that drew us together. I found this connection remarkably comforting and found that, increasingly, when we were apart, I craved more of him, his inspiring attention and his enriching company.
Dutifully, and with my husband’s wishes in mind, I finished dressing in preparation for my day ahead.
And as they had the previous two mornings, one or more of my sisters waited until my husband left, then came to my chamber door, impatient for news or some hint of scandal. When none was to be found, they seemed bitterly disappointed. It was almost as if theywantedme to be ravaged again and were irked when they found me in a semirespectable condition, with my shift unshredded and scarcely a hair out of place.
It was only Maisie this morning, carrying a tray with food and tea. Maisie placed the tray on a table and poured some tea as she surveyed my husband’s scattered possessions with interest. She brought me a cup of tea and the plate of food. Then she sat on the bed, helping herself to a rough hunk of bread and some hard cheese. “Stella, I heard arguing this morning,” she commented. “And yelling. What was your husband so angry about?”
“I told you already, Maisie,” I said, mildly annoyed that she’d bring this up yet again—and that she had likely been listening at the door of our chambers. “I’m not to discuss any of that with you. My husband wishesour private affairs to remain exactly that—private.” I, too, took a piece of bread. After the fresh-baked and interesting array of breads that had been on offer at the Mackenzie keep, the stale loaf was particularly unappealing, and the cheese had green spots of mold that needed to be scraped with a knife edge. I decided I wasn’t as hungry as I’d first thought.
Maisie interpreted my unwillingness to discuss our marital privacy as proof of my husband’s failings. “I justknewhe’d be a tyrant,” she said, almost triumphant that her initial assessments had been correct. “Just give me a few tiny details. Do you enjoyanyof it? Or is he as loutish and severe as he looks?”
“Maisie,” I said, mildly exasperated.
“Because when I was with Wilkie—did I tell you about this? There was this transcendentrush—”
“You did tell me, aye,” I interrupted. “All about it.”
“All I’m saying is that itcanbe...well, miraculous. Maybe in time—I mean, if he even takes you into account atall.Some men are like that, I’ve heard—interested only in self-gratification. Kade’s so unlike his brother in other ways, it’s not surprising. Although the more I see of him, the more Idosee resemblances. In his less severe moments, he does take on some of his brother’s...magnificence. Not entirely, but there’s a hint of it, I’ve noticed. But his personality is so different from Wilkie’s, it makes sense that he’d be different in the—”
“Maisie.”Something in my tone finally silenced her, very temporarily.
“Oh, all right,” she said, flouncing with indignation. But then she leaned in close again. “But I know you well enough, Stella. And I’m almost entirely certain that youdidn’t,otherwise you’d be gushing with it. There’s no way any woman can experience that kind of...satisfactionand not feel elated about it.”
“It was...different from what I was expecting,” I said, attempting to quiet her with a reply, even if it was vague and perhaps misleading. But I spoke the truth. All of what had so far taken place behind closed doors between Kade and mehadbeen different from what I’d been expecting.
“In what way?” she asked, her curiosity entirely piqued.
“In every way.”
She studied my eyes, then burst into laughter. “My dear sister, youcouldn’thave. Simply couldn’t have. Oh, you poor thing. Let’s just hope he improves over time.”
